


Angel Wings

by KM_Slowly



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gore, M/M, PTSD, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25161037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KM_Slowly/pseuds/KM_Slowly
Summary: One of Aziraphale's many stress relievers is flying. It has been since the Beginning. That being said, he may not be able to fly until the End.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 8





	Angel Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Ah yes, poorly written angst. Hello- Welcome to a story that's going to be multiple chapters instead of a oneshot like I normally would post.  
> I do plan on this being a pretty short story, so that's why I may not go super in depth with this one. Still, I hope you enjoy this little angsty story!

Aziraphale had picked up on a variety of stress relievers over the many years of being on Earth. One was the very obvious eating. Food, especially the fine meals he and Crowley shared in small restaurants during the late evenings, brought the angel much comfort.

Another one that was quite frowned upon in Head Office was alcohol. Fine wine at the end of nights while reading a book was something Aziraphale often looked forward to. (Of course, like everything else he did, the experience was always made better when a certain demon was with him.) Even alone, though, with the silence, there was hardly ever a night where alcohol could be turned down.

Reading was one that was also very obvious. Whether it be new books that he had gotten his hands on or books that he had owned for years upon years, every single one of them had a place in the bookshop. Aziraphale had read all of them at least once. It was always the first thing he did when receiving a new book. He would sit down, often with a small plate of food and a glass of wine, and read. Honestly, it was one of the most calming parts of his hectic life.

Although, he did favor one thing above all (well, almost all). Flying.

Flying was something that the angel found great joy in. Being able to spread his wings and fly into the clouds, surrounded by the soft color in the sky, was something that could hardly be beat. His favorite moment? When Crowley had asked to fly with him. It wasn’t but a little under eighty years ago. With everything that was happening in the 1940’s, the angel and demon both were under pressure. Being on Earth, having to watch everything fall into fear without being able to do much else other than small miracles, set heavy on their minds. Crowley knew about Aziraphale’s joy in flying, so he asked to join. They spent hours up in the sky, from sunset to midnight. They landed in the middle of an open area with smiles on their faces, and Aziraphale would never forget the look in Crowley’s eyes.

Now, Aziraphale hadn’t been able to fly in the past eleven years. He had to partner with Crowley, after all, in the entire Averting The Apocalypse scenario. It kept him locked in place. Now, however, he felt free.

Heaven and Hell were gone from their minds. He could open his wings and live. Even more importantly, he could fly again. Being forced to stay on the ground for so long made Aziraphale even more stressed. He wouldn’t have to worry about that for long.

Aziraphale had found a secluded area a while away from the city. There were no people, no buildings, nothing that could keep him from taking off into the sky. So he closed his eyes, smiled, and allowed his wings to spread out into the mortal realm. It felt amazing to be able to stretch them out again without being under pressure. The angel felt any form of carried over stress leave his body.

Maybe it was the air rushing around him, maybe it was the colors of the sky, maybe it was the welcoming heat of the sun. Aziraphale wasn’t sure, but being in the air made him feel like he had no worries. He knew he did. He didn’t trust Hell to leave Crowley be. It was Hell. They were demons.

Did he trust Heaven? No. After everything that had happened, how could he? He didn’t want to think about that right now. Or maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he was so spaced out in bliss that those horrible fears couldn’t invade his mind. He felt nothing but happiness. No stress, no worry, no looking behind his back in order to make sure the angels wouldn’t catch him breaking their rules.

Maybe, just maybe, it was too soon to relieve himself of such stress.

Aziraphale was above the clouds at this point. He noticed the colors below him darkening, but he didn’t take in that information. It wouldn’t have impacted him anyway. He was far above the impacts of anything that could have happened on Earth. Any storm, any strikes of lightning. He was above, as far as he was concerned, everything.

So he closed his eyes again and spread his wings out, dipping slightly below the clouds before gracefully coming back up. White feathers bristled in the wind. He’d have to brush them when he got back to his bookshop. He knew how fussy Crowley got at unkempt wings, even if they weren’t even his own.

What was Crowley doing right now? Last time they spoke, which was yesterday, he was at his flat. Taking care of his plants, Aziraphale was told. He figured that the demon was probably going to take a long and well deserved nap. He wasn’t sure if he would hear from him for another week, honestly.

Aziraphale opened his eyes at that, his eyebrows knitting together slightly in worry. What would happen if Crowley was asleep and Hell took him back? What if Aziraphale wasn’t there to prevent it? Actually, he had no idea what was happening at the current moment down on Earth. What if Crowley was in danger now?

His wings stuttered and he fell out of the air slightly, but quickly flew back up. The clouds below him were getting darker. He noticed that, yet he didn’t notice a light beginning to grow behind him.

What would happen if Crowley was dragged back to Hell? Aziraphale would be completely alone. Heaven would come for him too, right?

Oh, how stupid he was! He should have never thought they were safe! But it was too late for his reasonable thoughts now.

The light behind him caught his attention too late. He turned around, flapped his wings once in a poor effort to fly backwards away from danger, then was struck.

Now, being struck with any lightning hurts. It causes unimaginable pain. However, being stuck by the lightning of an angel is something that no human could ever comprehend. Aziraphale fell limp. His wings tucked impulsively. He began rocketting head-first to the ground below him.

Halfway down, his wings started to catch fire. They shivered and fluttered open slightly, but they didn’t make any effort to catch Aziraphale. Slowly, the fire engulfed his entire being. At this point, any human would think it was a fireball rocketing towards Earth at an alarming rate.

This wasn’t what Falling felt like. It was nowhere close, but it still caused the angel great amounts of agony. He couldn’t even try to catch himself. He couldn’t open his eyes, he couldn’t do anything but let gravity force himself to the ground. More specifically, he was about to crash into an abandoned church. How long had it been there? Who knows. But it wouldn’t be standing for long.

The crash was loud. Aziraphale slammed through the roof. The thin wood didn’t ease the rest of his fall. The hard concrete floor did. He laid on his back now, fire slowly dying out. His right wing had bent behind his back and was completely broken, trapped underneath Aziraphale’s body and covered in scattered pieces of the floor.

His left wing received the most damage. The fragile bone had caught on something on the ceiling, tearing it nearly clean off of the Principality’s back. It hung on by mere strands of flesh. Feathers still fell around him, some still lit on fire.

Aziraphale didn’t budge.

It only took one feather that was blazing to touch the wood walls. It was like if someone were to accidentally drop a lit cigarette. The wood caught on fire immediately, small flames rising into a towering inferno.

Still, Aziraphale didn’t move an inch.

He couldn’t. Whether he had passed out from the impact of the lightning or the pain during his fall didn’t matter.

Without some kind of miracle, Aziraphale was going to die here.


End file.
